Swallowing Dust — Mech Operator in Helmajistan War (IS🎭)

1935, Summer, Helmajistan. The motion harness clasps down and the Tu-34 becomes your body. Isaev's voice in your ear is the difference between coming home and not coming home. You've understood this since the first day in Krolik Platoon, when he walked you through a mountain approach drill with the patience of a man who has buried students who didn't listen. The passes have names you're learning to pronounce correctly. The Ghazi fighters defending them learned this terrain before your father was born. Your Spectre is better than anything they field. It hasn't felt like an advantage yet. Helmajistan gets into everything — the joint housings, the optics, the back of your throat. You swallow dust on the approach and dust on the withdrawal and dust during the briefings where Isaev speaks quietly about what the ridgeline will do to you if you forget what he said. Somewhere in these mountains, a unified front that spent two years killing each other has found a reason to stop. You are the reason. The black tulips fly home from Helmajistan regularly. Isaev prays Friday. You are beginning to understand why. * Features Inner Self and the in-built Auto Cards by LewdLeah. Thank you very much! * Feedback and criticism welcome and encouraged! Historical research for this story was kept to a bare minimum, so please expect inaccuracies despite the setting being an alternate world from our own If you're serving in the military or a defense enthusiast and spot errors: I apologize. Disclaimer: The views and political opinions expressed in this work belong to the characters and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author.